Draco Malfoy and the Dancing Tampons
by BestSkeptic
Summary: Draco stumbles into Hermione's tampon stash and is completely oblivious as to what they are. A short, lighthearted piece that goes to show that even married couples, despite vows to do otherwise, keep secrets from each other. Oneshot.


**Summary: **Draco stumbles into Hermione's tampon stash and is completely oblivious as to what they are. A lighthearted piece that goes to show that even married couples, despite vows to do otherwise, keep secrets from each other.**  
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**A/N: **Just something fun I decided to write, on a break from my upcoming Peter Pettigrew self-reflection piece. Please take this with a grain of salt. I tried my hand at humour, so sue me. If you really do hate the idea, feel free to check out my other works. I can promise that with the exception of _What Might Have Happened_, my writing is, for the most part, deep, dark and angsty. Not that I particularly intended for it... Oh well.

**Disclaimer: **I own Harry Potter. Obviously.

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Hermione knew she was tired, but not tired enough to be hallucinating. Was that... a tampon? Dancing across the kitchen table?

She removed her reading glasses and blinked a few times. Surely she was mistaken. Nevertheless, this curiosity merited a rub of the eyes. But when the dark splotches left her field of vision, it was still there. The tampon. Floating in midair above the table. And another one was close on its tail. ...To pardon a pun.

Well, she'd be damned. She certainly didn't remember bewitching any such objects–for one, she was far too engrossed in her Ministry readings to concern herself with frivolities of the nature, and secondly, a tampon? She'd considered herself above that sort of folly since the second years' infamous Girls' Lavatory Incident. So the dancing tampon was bothersome on two levels: it was puzzling, yes, but it was also intolerably annoying.

She didn't have time for these childish games. So she did what she always did when people bothered her with their foolishness–she ignored it, just as if it were a human being.

And then she admonished herself for treating it as such. It was a tampon, for Merlin's sake. _"Avada Ked–_" Oh God. She wasn't just about to AK a piece of _plastic_ into oblivion, was she? The war ended two years ago, and still she was in that defensive frame of mind. Bloody hell, was it really two years ago? _"Stupefy!"_ Both feminine products fell flat on the table.

And she sighed. She figured she'd discern the cause behind them later, but now, there was work to tend to and people to–

"_Engorgio!"_ A male voice thundered, and to Hermione's horror, a man-sized tampon came marching through the door. A very proud Draco Malfoy followed, wand pointed directly at it, seemingly pleased with himself.

Hermione, conversely, was not. "And just what in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"I found the most peculiar objects..." he explained, clearly preoccupied. "They come compact in two pieces... one seems to slide up and down, with some sort of fabric in the centre. Perhaps they are to clean giants' ears?"

"Draco."

"Okay, maybe not. But they must serve _some _purpose."

"Draco."

"Other than that of my own amusement, of course. But watch this!" With a motion of his wand, the tampon spun 180 degrees.

"Draco!"

"What?"

"I think," she said carefully, "that you might discover the purpose of these... mysterious objects... in an instruction manual in the box from which you took them."

"I saw no such thing in that box."

"Well, I suggest you look again."

"I think, Hermione, that I would have noticed an instruction manual in a box of giant ear-pluggers. Not that anyone would need an instruction manual for that sort of thing," he snorted. "What do you take me for, anyway?"

She rested her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "Sometimes," she sighed, "you really are insufferable._ Accio tampon box!"_ Within seconds, it was in her hands, and she gave it to her husband. "Now, if you'd excuse me, I'm not entirely sure I want to be here for this," she sighed, and left the kitchen.

Apparently, the man could read faster than she could walk. She'd barely made it to the bedroom when she heard his footsteps pounding the floorboards.

When the door flew open, his face was paler than usual. Much paler, in fact... like a sheet. His eyes nearly protruded from his sockets and his hair was clearly frazzled.

"Well?" Hermione inquired, stifling her laughter.

"We are not going to discuss this. Ever."

With that, he stormed out of the room. He couldn't fathom why she was laughing hysterically, not for the life of him.


End file.
